


You've Got Mail

by whilewilde



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, IT Chapter 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - You've Got Mail Fusion, Fluff, Internet, Internet friendship, Like you've got mail but with less Tom Hanks and more gay, M/M, Nothing sad, Texting, chatroom, face to face dramatic meeting after like 200 days of pining, remember chatrooms? me neither
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2020-12-24 20:56:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21105881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whilewilde/pseuds/whilewilde
Summary: Richie Tozier's career is going absolutely nowhere. Under the crushing weight of loneliness, he decides to join a chatroom in which the rules are as follows:You cannot use your real name, and you cannot reveal any personal information that may lead to you being identified.Thing is, he wasn't expecting to fall for someone going by the alias of ShopBoy in the process.





	1. New York Nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dellanweekes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dellanweekes/gifts).

> Hey there! I'm a sucker for a good RomCom, and Tom Hanks is the absolute boy, so I've smushed Reddie into a movie AU fit for the Losers.   
As always you can feed my ego by finding me on twitter or Tumblr: whilewilde.

“What the hell am I doing?” Richie muttered to himself, his finger hovering over the backspace button. 

The loneliness had been killing Richie recently. The stand-up comedy job was going great, if ‘going great’ meant crying every night after a show and drinking himself into a coma to forget. He missed having friends and a genuine connection.

That was when Bill had suggested a chat room. Not the creepy kind with videos of random dudes jacking off, just a place for friends to connect. So, that was how Richie found himself starting up his laptop and committing himself to the great unknown.

What is your username?

**BigdickRich?**

_'Nah, although...'_ Richie thought to himself, chuckling as he wracked his brain for an idea.

He found himself thinking of everything he had ever seen, or read, or liked. It wasn’t until his eyes landed upon a poster hanging in his bedroom that it hit him.

**MrDarcy.**

Nah, that’s not Richie enough.

**MrDarcy69.**

Perfect.

Richie frowned before deleting the 69. He had been nicknamed trash mouth in the past for his innuendos and foul language and he hated it. This was his chance to be someone different. From now on, he could find someone who saw him for who he really was.

He sweated over his bio for a few minutes before simply adding: ‘_I do standup comedy, and love more than anything to make people laugh :). In the NY vicinity. Promise I’m not boring_.’

With that, he closed his laptop and retired to bed, thinking of the endless possibilities this new chatroom would bring.

On the other side of the street, Eddie Kaspbrak had just returned from his shift at the local bookstore. It was always quiet and struggling as of recent, so he didn’t even get the usual social interaction with the regulars. Of course, he could’ve just given his job up, but for $13 an hour and working for a decent boss, that seemed like a drastic option.

His old laptop practically wheezed as he opened it. Great. His laptop being on its last legs was the last thing he needed. The rent in New York was so high that anything he made went directly into his rent. He was surprised he managed to eat most days.

At least he had the chatroom.

As he logged in, he noticed that there was a new member nearby. He clicked on their profile and stifled his laughter as he read the username: **MrDarcy**.

“Who’s this asshole?” He muttered, grinning as he read their bio.

'Stand up comedian'? _Of course. Aren’t we all_, Eddie thought as he began typing his message.

Richie was awoken from his sleep by a buzz from his laptop. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, searching for his glasses and his laptop. Richie slid his glasses onto his face as he noticed what had awoken him.

**1 new notification from chatroom! **

Richie, suddenly wide awake and curious, opened it.

**ShopBoy:** hey, I see you’re in the NY area! Would be cool to have some friends around here.

_Who the fuck is this guy?_ Richie thought, briefly hesitating before typing his response.

**MrDarcy:** I agree. This place is boring as shit sometimes.

**ShopBoy:** you said it.

**ShopBoy:** by the way, I sorta have like... rules for this kinda thing.

**MrDarcy:** like in a kinky way? No offence dude but I’m not looking to be tied up in a sex dungeon haha.

**ShopBoy:** sure, you wish. It’s just like we don’t tell each other our real names, or any personal info that might reveal who we are.

**ShopBoy:** is that okay...?

_That’s fuckin’ weird._

**MrDarcy:** ... Okay, why not? Not like I’m doing much else.

**ShopBoy:** This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

“Well, at least he’s seen Casablanca.” Richie mumbled, closing his laptop and rolling back over to sleep.


	2. Penny’s Wise Old Bookstore

Every morning Eddie went through the same routine. He would roll out of bed- not bothering to make it again- shower, brush his teeth and check his inbox which would be predictably empty.

The morning of the 19th October, he nearly fell out of his chair. For the first time in months, he had 5 notifications.

**MrDarcy**: good morning! :-)

**MrDarcy**: just occurred to me that maybe people don’t send those again unless they’re fucking. Sorry

**MrDarcy**: I promise I’m not a serial killer btw

**MrDarcy**: goddammit that’s something a serial killer WOULD say.

**MrDarcy**: okay I’ll shut up now.

Eddie glanced at the clock before replying, and then did a double take. It was 9:15 and he was 30 minutes late.

“Shit!” He exclaimed, pulling a polo shirt over his bare torso and practically bounding out the door.

Had it been 2 years previous, Eddie probably couldn’t care less if he was late, or if he left the shop door unlocked, or if he let $60 go missing from the tills. Now though, Eddie had made a promise. The owner of the shop was a family friend who, Eddie noted, was near death and so he should probably cut her some slack.

As he reached “Penny’s Wise Old Bookshop” he sighed in relief as he noticed that nobody had got in before him. All he had to do was a few quick jobs and he could pretend like he had got in on time. Everything was coming up Kaspbrak.

“I’m a fucking genius.” Eddie chuckled to himself as he unlocked the front door, stepping into his so called second home.

He greeted the smell of old books and what was probably rat piss with warmth. It wasn’t perfect- in fact it had failed many building safety audits- but it was familiar. Eddie could complain about the hours all he wanted, but he had a pretty sweet deal.

He couldn’t lie, though, the place freaked him out. Who decided that there was a niche in the market for a bookshop that specialised in the history of the circus must’ve been insane, and the clientele certainly reflected that.

Eddie dropped his jacket in the back and did a quick check through of the store. Once everything was as it should be (not that Eddie cared anyway), he flung the doors wide open and resumed his usual ‘sitting around doing fuck all’ position for the day.

Outside, a nervous Richie Tozier paced back and forth.

“He’s gonna think I’m fucking insane...” Richie mumbled, reaching for the handle of the bookstore.

Richie hadn’t been able to sleep the night before because any attempts had been met by a nightmare. He was certainly too old to be scared, he reasoned, especially by a stupid clown.

How convenient then, that he should live 2 minutes away from a bookstore that specialised in the Circus. He felt the biggest clown in New York City as he recited his speech in his head.

“Uh... hi.” Richie said to whoever was behind the counter, their head currently buried in a Stephen King book.

“Yup, what can I do for you?” Eddie responded, looking Richie up and down.

Oh boy, here we go. Eddie thought, struggling to hide his smile.

“Okay this sounds crazy-“

_You have NO idea_.

“-but I’ve been having these nightmares about a clown.” Richie explained, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Just one clown?” Eddie questioned, snickering.

“You know what? Never mind.” Richie retorted as he turned on his heels and headed for the door.

“No, wait! I was just kidding, that’s all. Tell me what I can do for you.” Eddie offered, suddenly feeling like the worst person in the world.

7 hours later, Eddie did a quick check of the shop, making sure all was as he left it. Satisfied, he locked the door and pulled the shutters down, hurrying home. He couldn’t wait to just sit in front of the TV with a pizza and watch SNL or some garbage.

Slumping on the couch with his laptop in hand, Eddie opened it to see that he still hadn’t responded to MrDarcy’s messages. Shit.

In the apartment across, Richie was worried that he might have scared ShopBoy off. He hadn’t responded since last night, and left him on read.

Well, that’s what you get for being a creep, he reasoned.

Just as he was about to turn in for the evening, his heart nearly stopped in its tracks as he saw ShopBoy begin to type.

**ShopBoy**: Don’t worry, I work with enough weirdos to know who is cool.

**MrDarcy**: so you’re saying I don’t have it in me to be a serial killer? Rude.

**ShopBoy**: what are you, a 13 year old white girl who’s just discovered Ted Bundy?

**MrDarcy**: god I wish I was 13. I could redo my adult years properly.

**ShopBoy**: I don’t wish you were. That would mean the FBI would be at my door as we speak:

**ShopBoy**: FBI if you’re reading this, I’m talking shit.

**MrDarcy**: I could be fbi...

**ShopBoy**: with a username like that? No way!

**MrDarcy**: what the hell does that mean?

**ShopBoy**: goodnight lover boy!

**MrDarcy**: goddammit

_ShopBoy is now offline_.


	3. 3

It was spring when Eddie started noticing that MrDarcy wasn’t really around anymore. Not that he cared, he’d remind himself, they were just a stranger to him. He didn’t even catch a real name.

Eddie kicked his legs onto the top of the desk in front of him, huffing as he thumbed through ‘A Complete History of Killer Clowns.’ Light reading for terrible times.

Why anyone would want to know anything about killer clowns baffled Eddie, and he couldn’t help but think of the customer who had come in months earlier. He had told Eddie - a complete stranger- about his greatest fear and then hightailed it out the door.

Then again, it was New York. Things like this just seemed to happen all the time.

When his mind drifted to MrDarcy he wondered if his penpal was alright. Maybe he’d finally got busted for something fishy, Eddie thought, imagining the headline about a serial killer who hunted for people online using a classic literature username. Now, things like that definitely did not happen in New York.

The gentle sound of the bell above the door did little to catch Eddie’s attention. These days it was usually old eccentrics or Jehovah’s witnesses, and there was funin having a guess before they spoke up.

Someone shuffled once across to the left side of the store, and then to the right, before turning back on themselves completely and stopping in front of the desk. There was silence.

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, cocking his head upwards and placing his book face down on his chest.

“Hi.” Someone responded, shyly.

Eddie was wondering what had brought the clown guy back again. It obviously wasn’t a book, because he was empty handed. Also, his one fear was clowns, so it would have been impractical to buy books about clowns, Eddie supposed.

There was a long pause before either men spoke again. They seemed to be waiting for the other to acknowledge them.

“You, uh, wanna talk about clowns or have you started having nightmares about... bears now or something?” Eddie asked, rather cruelly.

Richie looked wounded.

“I didn’t mean to be-“

“Nah, it’s good, man. I get it, I really do. I’m just another insane asshole in this city.” Richie retorted, trying to hide just how hurt he was.

“Oh shut up, will you?!-“ Eddie barked, losing his patience with the stranger “I did not listen to you talk about fucking clowns for like two hours months ago for you to go all... John Lennon on me.”

“I think that makes me the other one...?” Richie asked gently, not wanting to annoy Eddie more.

“There was four of them. You are being Paul McCartney right now. In fact, I don’t even know your name but you’re McCartney now.” Eddie couldn’t help forming a lopsided smile when he heard Richie laugh.

An hour later, and Richie was perched on a rarely used beanbag in the corner of the store. The two had spent time talking, and since Eddie had hit his usual standard of two customers a day, he figured that no one else would bother to stop by today. So, that’s how Richie ended up in a book store about clowns, sipping on homemade hot chocolate and passing the time.

The rain pattered against the window panes, becoming increasingly violent with each passing half hour. Usually the sound of the rain meant an oncoming storm, but New York seemed far too quiet for that sort of thing today.

“I don’t even have an umbrella!” Richie groaned, contorting his face into mock anguish.

“You know, I’ve heard of this thing called weather forecasts...” the response came from behind the counter.

Quips like that wouldn’t usually go unnoticed by Richie. Gentle. That was the word that people used to describe him, and he would practically cry at anything that could be perceived as mean. Those words sounded far too friendly from Eddie though. Richie just wasn’t used to kindness.

“My internet has been down.” Richie grumbled, picking dead skin off of the back of his hands.

“That explains a lot.”

“Why I’m here all the time? No it’s not like that-“

“No, I had this like friend, online-“ Eddie was beginning to get flustered. It sounded so creepy coming from his mouth “and they just disappeared.”

“Huh. Maybe it’s a problem with the whole area.”

When Eddie crawled into bed that night, he hardly thought of MrDarcy at all, unless you count Colin Firth. Eddie thought of Colin Firth most of the time, to be fair.

The thought that he couldn’t get rid of, no matter how much he tried was Richie. The stranger who was so eccentric that he bothered to spend 2 hours in a bookshop about clowns. 

Richie couldn’t have been younger than 30- although Eddie didn’t bother to ask- and yet he always seemed permanently tired of living, like he’d done it for far too long. That wasn’t how people we’re supposed to live.

Hardly living, his mother would have called it.

‘Get that guy some cupcakes or some shit’ Eddie scrawled lazily on the back of his serial killer clowns book. Satisfied that it was as legible as it could be given how tired he was, Eddie rolled over onto his side and slipped into a deep sleep. 


	4. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if you’re so inclined, lmk what you think! on all platforms I’m whilewilde

“Did you hear about the asshole downtown that’s opening a bookstore?” Eddie’s boss Steve shouted down the phone, making Eddie wince.

It was 7am on a Sunday, otherwise known as Eddie’s only day off, and he was being screamed at by his boss. ‘Screaming at’ was perhaps the wrong way to put it, because he wasn’t angry at Eddie for once in his ‘miserable, no-good life.’ Eddie cradled the receiver between his ear and his shoulder as he sat up in bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

Mr King had recently caught of wind of a brand new bookstore opening a few shops down from them. It was a real corporate type, the kind that puts independent bookshops out of business forever, and Mr King knew they were toast.

“To be fair, I don’t think many people dig clown stuff...” Eddie mumbled, resisting the urge to close his eyes.

“You’re tellin’ me?! You, this kid, is tellin’ me, what people want. You should worship the ground I fuckin’ work on pal, I gave you the job.” Steve was on a roll now.

“No, I know-“ Eddie sighed, knowing there was no coming back from this “a-and I appreciate it, you know that.I just don’t think clowns are a hot topic.”

“You’re saying kids don’t care about John fuckin’ Gacy?!? Or that creepy asshole who eats those kids from that new horror book that came out... I don’t remember his name.”

“Right, but there’s only so many types of clowns in the world.” Eddie rested his head against the wooden headboard, closing his eyes.

Working at the bookstore the most important rule he would ever learn: Mr King was always right. Even if he was most definitely wrong, he was definitely right. Eddie hated being the kind of employee that kissed ass, but it just wasn’t worth the trouble to do otherwise.

“You listening to me?!” Steve’s shouting jolted Eddie awake again.

“Yeah, mhm, I agree. Okay, good morning to you too.” Eddie mumbled, not listening to what Steve was saying as he slammed down the receiver.

Knowing that he would now struggle to fall asleep again, he rolled into his side, stretched until he could reach under his bed, and returned, clutching his laptop. It had been a wise investment from a few days ago, on the basis that he wanted to spend days in bed on the internet if he wanted to.

The laptop whined into action as Eddie absentmindedly traced the tattoo of a star on the top left of his chest. Casting his mind back to the last few days, he remembered how sad he felt every day when Richie failed to walk through the door.

“God I sound like a fucking puppy.” Eddie grumbled, rolling his eyes.

The last time they had seen each other, Richie had come in to avoid heavy rain, but Eddie didn’t mind. He offered him a towel that he had kept in his gym bag in case of water related emergencies, and Eddie couldn’t help but smile when Richie accepted it with thanks.

Eddie remember he found it... cute? when Richie gingerly removed his glasses, gently wiping them. Once clear, Richie popped them back on his face and flashed a full toothed grin at Eddie.

“How do I look?” Richie asked.

“You look great.” and then worrying that it sounded too soft “you look like your normal self.” 

“Gee, thanks!” Richie replied, brushing imaginary dust off of his shoulder.

“I meant...” Eddie trailed off, mid sentence.

“I know.” Richie said gently, turning his eyes towards the floor and chuckling to himself.

Eddie made excuses and moved to the stockroom to sort through some books, hoping Richie didn’t notice that he had gone bright red. Utterly pathetic behaviour, as if he was a teenager in a rom-com, Eddie reflected, loading up the chatroom.

**MrDarcy**: good morning, sunshine.

**ShopBoy**: what, are you my mom??

**ShopBoy**: also, good morning to you too :)

**MrDarcy**: god, I hope not. But then again... I could be...

**ShopBoy**: ew.

**MrDarcy**: that WOULD be weird huh.

**MrDarcy**: anyways, where have you been?

**ShopBoy**: think that’s a question for you more than me haha.

**MrDarcy**: a question for both of us, then? (:

**ShopBoy**: for both of us :)

**MrDarcy**: I’ve been on a business venture, I guess. Can’t say much cause this is how it goes yknow.

**ShopBoy**: international man of mystery...

_ MrDarcy has temporarily changed his nickname to ‘International man of mystery’! _

**MrDarcy**: where have you been?

**ShopBoy**: if I told you, I’d have to kill you.

**MrDarcy**: wow

**MrDarcy**: yknow, I wasn’t sure if I should say this because it’s all online and you could be an 80 year old man but

**MrDarcy**: even if you are I guess, I’ve really enjoyed this. Like really enjoyed this.

**ShopBoy**: do you think if we met in real life we’d be friends?

**ShopBoy**: I’ve enjoyed it too, btw...

**MrDarcy**: guess we’ll find out one day!!!

_ ** MrDarcy is away! ** _

Eddie closed his laptop, unaware of how much he had smiled in the last ten minutes. His good mood was instantly interrupted by the ringing of the phone on his bedside table.

“Hello, Steve.” Eddie answered, mentally preparing for the onslaught that was about to come his away.

“Kid, I need you to go to this party tomorrow night. It’s for the shop at the end of the road. Get some intel.”

With that, the line went dead. 


	5. From Now On We Are...

The party was not the kind of party that Eddie was used to. Being a college kid that had never quite recovered form his early twenties at heart, he was more used to the beer pong and the passing out kind of parties. The realisation that he had got it all wrong really hit him when he arrived, only to see everyone dressed in their most expensive get up- designers that Eddie felt too poor to even know about- whilst he wore his ugliest Hawaiian shirt and skinny jeans. The only saving grace, he realised, was that the party goers were far too kind to even make jokes at his expense whilst he was present.

They would wait until they went home, where Eddie imagined that they would sit on a premium leather sofa, in their living room complete with a chandelier fashioned into the shapes of tears of the working class. The perfectly respectable husband, who was definitely having it off with his secretary, would turn to his beautiful wife and say:

“Who do you reckon that funny looking fellow was?”

His wife would laugh and reply that she had no idea, but perhaps he was there as a courtesy, like the butler of the house being allowed to eat as the same table as his employer or Make-A-Wish for the less financially fortunate. No, they would not say anything in his company, but simply wait until they were safe behind the gates of their stately homes. Then they would laugh.

Making his way through the hall and into a kitchen bigger than Eddie’s entire flat, he leaned casually against a kitchen countertop, and eyed the food on the marble topped island across from him. Steve didn’t exactly say he couldn’t sample the menu, did he?  


“Kitchen? Yeah, I do the same too.” Eddie was startled, looking up to see Richie stood in front of him, and mentally scolded him for finding Richie pleasing to the eye.

It’s a curious thing to see someone that you are so used to seeing in one place pop up somewhere else, as if they’re a character in a book out of place. It wasn’t that Eddie was displeased with seeing Richie, in fact it was the total opposite, but he had grown so used to associating Richie with the smell of books and far too strong a coffee that he felt all out of place.

A lopsided grin slapped upon his face, Eddie took a minute to scan the figure stood before him. He seemed nervous and was constantly fiddling with his glasses, as if he was painfully aware that he was very much a fish out of water as well. Dressed in a white button up shirt, just open enough to expose a bit of chest, a black blazer, black jeans and brown brogues, he was still better prepared than his counterpart.

Not that would take much, Eddie considered. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here!” Eddie exclaimed, trying to play down just how happy he was with the appearance of a familiar face.

“Y-yeah, Sorry. I just kinda show up to these things” Richie replied, grimacing and scratching the back of his neck.

“No, it’s good to see you” and it really was “at least I have a friend.” As soon as the words had left Eddie’s mouth, he couldn’t stop the blush that found its way to his cheeks.

“Oh, we’re friends?”

“Well, you’ve always been just a customer to me.”

“Treating me like a common whore? You’re a charmer” he scoffed, placing a hand over his chest in mock offence, his mouth forming into an ‘o’. 

“To be fair, if people saw how I was dressed, they would think you brought me along, not the other way around.”

Richie’s eyes quickly flicked over Eddie’s outfit and he couldn’t help but hold back a light chuckle.

“I didn’t notice.”

“Shut up.”

“No, I mean that. You look exactly the same as every day I see you, and that’s when you look your best.” Eddie frowned, unsure of how to take the comment.

Not giving him time to think too much about it, and partly to break the silence that threatened to end the conversation completely, Richie hopped up onto the counter. Eddie did his best to ignore his actions until Richie began to tap his shoulder in quick succession.

“What?”

“Join me. Let’s face it, we’re going to be here all night so you may as well sit down.” Richie suggested, offering his hand to help him up.

Of course, Eddie didn’t actually require a hand up, and Richie was well aware of this.

Eddie rolled his eyes, brushing Richie’s hand away and hooping up onto the counter beside him. As he became acquainted with his new found height, he swung his legs back and forth, not noticing that Richie was watching him fondly.

“So since we’re friends, I think we have some catching up to do. I’d put it at... maybe- I don’t fuckin’ know - 20 plus years?”

Had anyone bothered to ask any of the party goers (especially those who frequented the kitchen) if they knew what connected the unlikely pair, Eddie probably would’ve found out the secret sooner. Of course, hindsight is a luxury that no one can afford, and most paid no attention to the two men, chatting happily and maintaining a distance between each other, like high schoolers with a crush.

All anyone remembers is the argument of biblical proportions that occurred well on into the night.

Eddie, post party remembers the entire thing in excruciating detail. If he had thought he had learned to cope with his anxiety, he was thrown back to square one, 15 years ago, that night. It had happened when someone was gathering a crowd in the yard.

“Cmon let’s see!” Eddie exclaimed, hopping off the counter, his curiosity piqued.

“Nah, I don’t think it’s that important.” Richie mumbled into his cup, resisting Eddie and pulling on his arm instead.

Eddie would have been convinced. In fact, if it wasn’t for the stranger who entered the kitchen and stated that they were all waiting for Richie, things could’ve gone differently. Maybe they could’ve ditched the party and gone for dinner, or just hung out and got drunk in the book shop. Maybe.

“Is it your birthday or something?” Eddie asked, happily unaware as Richie was practically dragged to the yard.

A large circle of quests turned to face him and began applauding as soon as he stepped foot outside, blushing furiously and fixing his gaze on the floor. Eddie hung back in between the doorway leading to the yard, furrowing his brow in confusion.

Eddie can’t remember exactly what was said, probably because he was drunk, probably because he was angry.

“Congratulations on your new venture...” something something “new bookstore...” something “destroy local competition.” 

That was when Eddie knew, and he felt sick. His hand automatically hovered above his stomach and he went ghostly white, taking steps back. He hadn’t pictured Richie as the “well, the penny has finally dropped” villain types, but he had been lied to and it felt like a punch in the gut.

Richie spun around, attempting to make his way to Eddie, but for each step closer, Eddie took one back.

“You didn’t tell me.” Eddie muttered, quietly. Then louder “you didn’t fucking tell me! That’s my job! That’s my fucking job and you’re making me effectively redundant! You talked me to me like we were... friends!” He practically spat the word ‘friends’ at a sheepish Richie.

The crowd watched in disbelief as two grown men argued in the media of a cake cutting ceremony at a party, one crying and in a Hawaiian shirt, and the other acting like he was guilty of murder. Everything was silent, except of course, the back and forth of Richie and Eddie.

“Listen, we are friends! It’s just business, okay? I’m sorry.” Richie replied, holding his hands out in front of him, as if he were trying to reaching Eddie, with no success.

“From this moment onwards, we are not friends. We were never friends!” Shouted, veins standing out on his forehead as he stumbled back through the house and out the door.

“I’m sorry.” Richie whispered, staring at the empty space where Eddie had been previously.

ShopBoy is online!

ShopBoy: dont know when you’ll wake up or whatever. Hope you’re sleeping well.

ShopBoy: but I don’t think I can do this being friends and never meeting you thing.

ShopBoy: kinda had enough of the mystery, haha.

ShopBoy: I hope you understand...

ShopBoy: goodnight.

ShopBoy is offline.

Eddie buried his head into his pillow and screamed, embarrassed by how he had behaved, and by how he had been treated once again. Any fear of overreaction was overruled by his fear of losing his job. After all, that’s what they were all congratulating Richie on, wasn’t it? Being the best of the best? Wiping completion off the map and having rights on every bookshop in the area like a game of monopoly?

One thing was for sure, he wasn’t letting this one go. 


	6. Fishing Boat, Yacht.

MrDarcy: huh...?

MrDarcy: you know you can talk to me if something is bothering you, right?

MrDarcy is offline!

MrDarcy is online!

MrDarcy: I know you read these

MrDarcy: which is fine, I mean, I don’t want to seem like a fucking creep. You don’t even know me. I just would like to know if you’re okay, I guess.

MrDarcy is offline!

MrDarcy: well it’s been a month. I’ll take this as my notice. Besides, got some stuff coming up at work soon so I’ll be busy a lot. I hope you’re okay, wherever you are. Whatever you’re doing :)

MrDarcy is offline!

ShopBoy is online!

ShopBoy is typing...

ShopBoy is offline!

They say that time heals everything, but Eddie had yet to see any evidence of it patching up his pride or giving him a new job, even a month after the incident. He had been technically unemployed for a week. ‘Technically’ meaning that he was being paid out of Steve’s own pocket to sort out and shift the rest of the books on EBay.

“The wonders of the internet, hey kid?” Steve had said to him a week previous on the phone.

Eddie had closed the shop for the day as the rain hammered at the windows, ruining any chance of a single customer. It would have to be a ‘stay cozy indoors, listen to music and box everything up’ day. Eddie couldn’t say he was devastated.

“I’ve never heard someone say the internet with such disgust since my mom discovered internet porn, Steve.”

“Yeah, well, reason we’re in this shithole in the first place.”

“You’ll be fine, you’re loaded! You have a fucking yacht or something!”

“It’s a fishing boat... but I see your point. I don’t understand why you won’t take my offer of a bit of money to tide you over, kid.” Steve’s voice was fraught with concern, almost making Eddie tear up.

“No... no... absolutely not. You need all the money you can get for the postage you’ll spend sending me free fish, right?”

“I’d do anything for ya, kid.”

“I know, I appreciate that. You even ruined my one new friendship.” Eddie chuckled as he thought back to that night.

“Eh, he was an asshole anyway. You know I have a beautiful niece who-“

“I’m gay, Steve. And goodbye. Ring me if you need anything.” Eddie ended the call, clutching the phone to his chest, a smile on his face.

The problem with being made redundant is that the depth of what has just happened doesn’t often hit until that final pay check. By then it’s too late to get your life together and you spend every waking hour applying for jobs you’ll eventually get rejected from. Eddie hadn’t worked anywhere but a bookshop, and for some reason, every new hire in the world needed a degree and 15 years experience.

Of course, there was always that new bookshop: ‘Hanx’ or whatever it was called. Eddie often hate visited the website, scoffing in disgust at the professional layout and the pictures of families looking happy. Sure, happy to pay $15 for a book that they could get for much less in a local bookstore. Every night Eddie’s ritual would end with him slamming his laptop closed in anger, and going to watch another Netflix show.

To most people, it was a clear cut case: just take the job and shut up about it. Sure, it was wrong to make Eddie redundant, but that’s capitalism, baby! Eddie wasn’t most people though. To him, this was war.

ShopBoy is online

ShopBoy: okay, there’s something I need to do, but I can meet you for coffee tomorrow night at 7?

MrDarcy: sounds perfect, don’t be late!

ShopBoy: I’m a quick worker, we should be good.

Eddie had watched enough Dexter to know that his plan had to work. Tomorrow at 6 he’d just have to put it into action. 


	7. The broken internet

Things had started to go wrong when he woke up, Eddie supposed. He couldn’t pinpoint a particular thing that happened that caused the domino effect, just that being awake was really the main problem amongst it all. First, the internet had gone down, which was always a plus when the one person you need to contact can only be contacted via the Internet.

Eddie had from that moment onwards, spent 4 hours screaming down the phone at the internet company, who were adamant that they couldn’t come out to fix it because of the rain. That was around the point that he lost his patience entirely and slammed the phone down, only to realise he was now an hour late for work.

Ideally, he knew that being late made no difference whatsoever. They never got any customers, so it wasn’t like they were losing money. Steve also didn’t care enough anymore to check up on the shop - although he made sure Eddie was okay, which was kind - because he knew that they were doomed to close soon. It did matter to Eddie, though.

Recently everything seemed to be sliding out of control, and far too fast for him to keep up. Eddie had become comfortable, far too comfortable to be okay with any kind of change, small scale or otherwise.He was always on time. That was the one thing he could rely on, even if the apocalypse was incoming.

Completely ignoring the need for a shower, Eddie threw on a grey hoodie and sweatpants, grabbing his backpack and sprinting out the door. By the time he had reached the shop and opened the shutter, he felt like an idiot for even getting himself worked up.

For one of the last times, Eddie headed inside, noticing the nearly empty shelves and the light barely hanging from the ceiling. He turned the card in the door from ‘closed’ to ‘open’ and headed behind the counter, sitting in his office chair and began to pass the time.

It was around 3pm when Richie had walked in, and it had a solid 2 minutes before Eddie even noticed his presence.

“Oh shit!” Eddie exclaimed, jumping up and catching his appearance in the mirror in the corner of the shop.

To put it kindly, he looked terrible. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, and they would take at least a month of sleep to go away. The hoodie and sweatpants hung baggily off his body, and paired with pale face, they made him look ill. His hair, usually gelled back and neat, was all over the place.

It was hard not to be aware of his appearance, especially when the man standing opposite you looks like he’s just walked off a runway in Paris. Richie’s hair had been cut short, flattened and pushed back into a neat quiff, and it pained Eddie to admit that it suited him. A simple black suit and white shirt accompanied the entire look, coming up slightly short on Richie’s arms as if to mock him fit being so tall.

“I don’t usually have that effect on people.” Richie quipped nervously, unsure of what to do with his hands.

“What can I help you with?” Eddie asked coldly, brushing off the flirtation with ease.

“Listen I want to talk to you about...what happened.” The two seemed to wince in sync at the recollection of the party.

“Then talk, I’m listening.” Eddie stated, sitting back down in his chair as if to appear unbothered by the whole charade.

Of course, deep down, Eddie was far from unbothered. In fact, the party had been playing on his mind since it happened. Most parties had that impact, but this wasn’t anxiety surrounding what drunk Eddie did or said; for him it was purely anger. The bravado and the smugness with which Richie’s friends had proclaimed the opening something to be happy about was disgusting.

To anyone else, it may have been an overreaction, but to Eddie that was his entire life. People don’t get to change everything without a second thought and gloat about it in the same breath. It just wasn’t fair.

“I never for meant to this happen, it was just a bookstore opening to me. It’s just business! But I feel awful, and I’m sorry. I really am.” Richie pleaded, fidgeting.

Every single word just seemed to cut Eddie to the bone. He had usually considered himself a laid back kind of guy, and few people - not including the internet guy- had seen him when he was really angry. Angry Eddie didn’t shout and scream, he became quiet and withdrawn.

Faking disinterest, Eddie reached for the nearby clipboard, flicking through a few pages as if waiting for something. After a minute, when the silence became unbearable and Richie looked as if he was going to throw up, Eddie finally spoke.

“Is that all?” He asked quietly, not making eye contact with Richie.

“I don’t know how to get you to believe how sorry I am!” Richie replied, groaning in frustration.

“You’re not sorry. You’re just sorry you met the person who would be hurt by your actions. That’s it, we’re done.” Eddie explained calmly, gesturing to the door.

“That’s not true...” Richie muttered, giving up and heading out of the door, crossing the street and disappearing.

Eddie leaned back in his chair, hands on the back of his head as he considered wether he had been too harsh. No, he thought, he had just been the right level of mad towards someone who had robbed him of a job that he loved. Steve would’ve been proud of him. 

At 5pm, he called it a day and made sure to run through his daily ritual of closing the shop. Steve had always reminded him that it was the most important part of the day, even though they had nothing worth stealing - and besides it was breakfast that took first place, surely? - but he complied anyway.

Eddie had managed to make it back his apartment avoiding further embarrassment or anger, almost completely forgetting that he had a coffee date at 6pm with MrDarcy. If the internet had been working, he wouldn’t cancelled without hesitation.

The last thing a charming and possibly (hopefully) handsome man needed was to meet a stranger from the internet who not only looked like shit, but was unnecessarily angry. Eddie stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom, sighed and clapped his hands together. He was going to make an effort.

When he had finally got out of the shower, Eddie dressed himself in smart black jeans, black boots, and an ugly 80s patterned shirts, tucked in to his jeans but still baggy. His look was complete when he managed to keep his hair slicked back with unhealthy amounts of product, and took a final look in the mirror.

“You’ll be fine. He won’t be a serial killer. You’ll be fine.” Eddie mumbled to himself, clutching his keys and heading out of the apartment.

As soon as Eddie had headed into the coffee shop - Sal’s, a recent build- he knew it was a complete write off. The place was the standard trendy coffee shop, absolutely stripped of any character and used cassettes for decoration because, hey kids! remember those?

The shop was completely empty, and so Eddie adopted the plan of buying his coffee, standing outside and waiting to see who it was before he was stuck with them inside. It wasn’t exactly full proof, but it made sense in his head.

Muttering angrily about parting ways with $5 for a coffee, he headed outside, leaning against the brickwork and began to people watch. It had been 20 minutes before he got completely carried away and got lost, not even realising that someone had been staring at him for a few seconds.

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” Richie’s voice filled his ears and made him almost faint.

“No, I was hoping you would go away, actually.” Eddie replies dryly before adding “sorry.”

“That’s probably fair, actually.”

“You here for any reason?” Eddie enquired, noticing that Richie was walking in the direction away from the coffee shop. He couldn’t have been the person he was waiting for then.

“No actually, I just saw you from across the road and thought I’d come down to see if you’re okay.” Richie explained, looking slightly unsettled by how casual Eddie was.

“I’m as okay as I was 3 hours ago, thanks.”

“So I take it you’ve not heard about your store being robbed?”

“Shit.”


End file.
